


we fell in love in october

by aglowSycophant



Category: Dungeons & Dragons (Roleplaying Game)
Genre: Hurt/Comfort, Mild Angst, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-17
Updated: 2020-12-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 21:08:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 763
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28133688
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/aglowSycophant/pseuds/aglowSycophant
Summary: Gale goes quiet for a while. If not for the rise and fall of her chest, if not for her choked-out breaths, It would think she'd died in their arms, like a cruel god's trick. But gods mean nothing to them, It decides, and neither do angels. Not a god matters, and neither do their wings, and the only one they need is her.It falls in battle. Gale cleans up afterwards.
Relationships: Original D&D Character(s)/Original D&D Character(s)
Kudos: 2





	we fell in love in october

"Are you in pain?" Gale asks softly, words barely a mumble. Her voice isn't melodious – not tonight – tonight her voice is broken and weak and trembling, something hoarse and shattered and sad.

It, their features bloody, their features bruised, nuzzles further into Gale with what little strength they have left. Their fingers are numb, bloodied, broken, aching – yet their hands, shaking with exertion, still rub circles into Gale's back.

"No," they murmur, voice faint and muffled by her shirt. Gale smells like roses, they think, and spring days long gone. Gale smells like sugar and peaches and memories of summer. Gale smells like happiness.

"Don't lie to me, It," she mumbles back, feeling their shaky, slow movements. Hand running through their hair, she thinks how much they used to care for it. How much they liked it. And now, it's a tangled, dirty mess, a mix of dirt and blood and tears, damp and ugly.

"Then why did you ask?" comes their monotone, dull question, far too exhausted for emotion. It doesn't want to talk right now - It doesn't want to think right now. It wants to hold her, tell her everything's alright, because they're alive and she is too, and that's all that matters. 

Gale goes quiet for a while. If not for the rise and fall of her chest, if not for her choked-out breaths, It would think she'd died in their arms, like a cruel god's trick. But gods mean nothing to them, It decides, and neither do angels. Not a god matters, and neither do their wings, and the only one they need is her.

"Because," she says eventually, voice tread-upon and gravelly, "I wanted to hope otherwise. Because I'm worried, because I..." She can't get the last words out but forces them out anyways with a sob and a sniffle. "Because I thought I lost you."

"Oh," mumbles It. Taking a long while to form a sentence, they eventually say, "But I'm alive. I'm alright."

You're here, It thinks, so it can't be that bad.

"You're bleeding," Gale murmurs after a pause, movements stiff as she forces herself to move. Limply, It's arms fall from her back and let her go. "Let me help you."

"It can wait," It mumbles, but doesn't move to stop her.

"No, it can't."

"I know." The room, dim, still screams with light, and It can't focus their vision as they look up at her. "But I don't want you to go away."

"I should be the one," Gale chokes out with a noise, something strangled between a sob and a laugh, "Telling you that, not the other way around."

"I read it," It says, voice a flat, dull mumble, "In a book, once." And, watching her blurry silhouette, they say, "I've never been one for poetry, Gale."

She lets them talk as she shakily takes out a roll of bandages, starting to wrap their hands.

"It never made sense to me," It continues, leaning onto their pillow. It doesn't smell like, doesn't feel like her. Gale, it isn't. "Poetry. I never understood it, until I met you."

"Oh," Gale breathes out, stopping with the bandages in her hand as she looks at them and stares.

"And, Gale, there's someone out there," they mumble, something soft and something fading, "That loves me, and I don't know who they are." For once, It smiles, something jagged and unnatural on their features. "But  _ gods _ , I hope it's you."

“I’m sure,” Gale says, tone uneasy, “That you’ll find them, whoever they are.” And that whoever it is, whoever they are, is better than her. Because Gale doesn’t  _ deserve _ It, she thinks, staring at them. Because Gale is just a hindrance.

They wouldn’t have gotten injured had it not been for her, anyways.

“I think,” they mumble, half-delirious with exhaustion, “That I love you, Gale.” They draw in a slow, quiet breath, and add, “And I hope you do too.”

“Yeah,” she breathes, feeling her face start to warm, “I hope so too.”

Even as Gale begins to mentally berate herself for her response, It’s smile only intensifies.

“When I wake up,” they mumble, “I want to hug you.”

“You’re injured,” she insists, “You can’t––”

“But I want to,” they mumble, “So I’m going to, when I wake up.”

After a long pause, Gale nods and knows It can’t see it.

“Okay,” she murmurs. “Then... Sleep well.”

It’s a facsimile of comfort. Gale doesn’t know what she’s doing at all.

But It seems happy with her answer, and why, she doesn’t know.

What an enigma they are.


End file.
